


The Boss

by ShellyLass



Category: Holby City
Genre: AU, F/F, berena - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-10 04:32:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10429155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShellyLass/pseuds/ShellyLass
Summary: The dank, dreary underbelly of NYC during Prohibition draws in all kinds of people. Good, bad, and even bored housewives.





	

Black heels pounded the asphalt as the rain poured, a newspaper held above her auburn curls, crimped and pinned into a bob that brushed her neck as she moved. The black heels gave way to creamy white calves and thighs covered by mesh black stockings; halfway up began a bright red dress with a slit reaching high up her right thigh. She huffed in frustration; she should have ridden the taxi the whole way even if it was “against the rules.” She had never been one for rules anyway, she smirked to herself and turned a corner into a dark alleyway.

The sun was dipping low in the sky, dusk was gorgeous in New York but when one ventured into the lower streets miles from Times Square, the sun seemed to dim and the shadows took over. The woman, for instance, was a long way from the penthouse on 42nd street that overlooked the city. She was used to the skyline of the city being her view as she sipped coffee and cooked breakfast. Yet, she craved the alleys, storm drains, and gritty parts of this city no lady should ever see. 

She passed a man sitting on what was left of a dirty, sodden mattress. He was young, his brown hair matted to his head with rain as the downpour slowed to a drizzle. She looked upon him not with disdain, but curiosity. His eyes depicted a vastly different life than hers, one of suffering and struggling. The woman felt a tug in her heart and halted on the spot, reaching into her clutch and fishing out a few bills. The young man eyed her, no malice showing in his kind face. She held out a manicured hand, her fingernails painted bright red.

“What’s this for?” the man asked, his eyes wary as he looked up and down the alley.

The woman chuckled, “It’s for you, my dear.”

The man’s eyes widened and he wiped his hand on his dirty trousers before taking the offered money. A sound caught in his throat, “This is hundreds of dollars, ma’am. I cannot accept this,” his Jersey accent filtering through a clenched, prideful jaw.

“Nonsense, I can afford it. In times like this we have to help one another, right?” the woman responded, her now empty hand coming to rest on her hip, daring the man to challenge her kindness.

“Your name, miss?” the young man asked, a smile tugging at his lips.

The woman chuckled, “Serena, and you?”

“My name is Raf, ma’am. I appreciate your kindness. The place you’re looking for is just down that way, do be careful. There are some characters about this area that wouldn’t be too kind to a lady like you. This is mob territory, you know,” Raf explained.

The red head tossed her head back and laughed, her arm shaking as it held the newspaper above her head. Raf looked at her as if he’d never seen such in his life.

“I adore trouble, Raf, but that’ll be our little secret,” Serena winked and waved a goodbye before continuing her way down the alley.

xxxx

“Do as I say, that’s what I’m paying you for, Isaac. If I must ask again, the outcome will not be pleasant,” an icy female voice whispered, tone clipped and falsely cheerful.

“I know the consequences, ma’am, but what you’re asking is all but impossible,” a man replied, his voice low and angry.

The woman chuckled, “I’ll remind you to watch your tone, Isaac.”

“Yes, ma’am, forgive me,” Isaac replied, his tone noticeably brighter.

“This is a party, Isaac, tend to our guests. We will speak business tomorrow,” the voice dictated leaving no room for argument.

The woman sat in the corner of the room in a booth all her own, her long-fingered hands toying with a glass of scotch. Her black shoes shined to perfection, the cuffs of her pinstripe jacket held closed with a pearl cufflink. A tie encircled her neck, red against the black of her dress shirt. One long leg crossed over the other as her brown eyes surveyed the room. Her kingdom in full swing, as it was every Saturday night.

A smoky haze filled the large room, a converted lobby of an abandoned hotel. The polished floors a warzone for dancing feet. Tables clustered along the walls were inhabited by people eating and drinking their fill, watching the party around them. A long, shining wooden bar ran the length of one wall. A tall brown-haired man with a beard ran the bar with ease.  Across the room a stage stood, a petite black woman singing a rendition of Bessie Smith’s “Downhearted Blues.” Her blue dress complimented her dark skin and her hips swayed as she sang. It was known that her voice was matched by very few local aspiring musicians. A band of misfits who’d followed her from Alabama accompanied her mesmerizing voice.

There were men with their wives and men with their mistresses. The single women had come from better parts of this city with a taste for danger. There were also men with dirty hands and stained shirts, here with the hope of finding their fortune working for her. Then there were the wandering souls seeking bliss if just one night.

A young man, his blue eyes bright and blonde hair combed back approached the woman; her face was hidden beneath the black fedora that donned her brown curls. His black suit fit his body well and his scruffy face worked hard to hide his age. He laced his fingers together across his front and waited to be acknowledged.

“Yes, Dom?” the woman said, her voice warm with affection.

“Just seeing if you needed anything, of course.”

The woman chuckled quietly, “I’m perfectly content, my friend. I am simply enjoying the perfect view of lawless debauchery before me. I hope you are enjoying yourself.”

Dom’s eyes twinkled, “Yes, I’ve met a lovely fellow named Jared.”

The woman raised her eyes to the young man, “My my, how fast you work, my dear Dominic. Away with you then, enjoy yourself.”

“I couldn’t, you need someone with you ma’am,” Dom protested.

The woman’s brown eyes sparked, “I’m more than capable of handling my affairs alone, Dom. Enjoy your evening and just know that the only reason Isaac is still alive and in my employment, is because you’ve asked nicely.”

Dom laughed, “You could just fire him, you know?”

The woman dropped her face, sipping her drink. “You and I both know there’s only one way out of this life.”

Dom nodded, “Very much aware, ma’am. I’ll let Tony and Marco know to keep an eye out, goodnight.”

The woman nodded and smiled, her lips closed.

Dom excused himself and tugged the shirt sleeve of a young man nearby. His olive skin and dark eyes a beautiful contrast against his lengthy black hair. An Italian fresh off the boat no doubt, the woman mused. A thought crossed her mind of employing him, but she kept her affairs separate from the lives of those she cared for. It was something she had always done and will always do. Dominic was an exception, a friend she’d never meant to make. A life she’d inadvertently taken, whether he knew it or not.

Morven, the lovely voice setting the mood of the evening, slid into a new song of a faster pace. The woman watched as the room came alive with the beat of the music. Bodies jostled against one another and the smell of sweat mixed with the smell of alcohol and the sound of the band playing. At that moment, a flash of red caught her eye near the door. Brown eyes focused as two of her men led a woman in from the alley entry way, her red dress stark against the black of their suits. From her seat, the brunette could see that the woman was red-headed and could be no more than 35 on her worst day. The woman’s tongue darted out to wet her lips as her eyes found the slit in the dress, her milky thigh on display. The woman’s shoulders were bare save for the two thin red straps holding her dress in place. She must have made a remark as the men on either side of her chuckled and shook their heads before disappearing back towards the entrance.

The woman rose, her hand gripping her drink as she moved to the nearest pillar. Leaning her weight against it she watched as the redhead threw a drenched newspaper at a man gripping her around the waist, laughing as she did so. The man attempted to keep hold of her waist, trying to draw her to the dance floor. The woman simply gripped his chin and from the looks of it explained what would happen if he persisted. The brunette’s jaw dropped at the sight, the woman had not yet uttered a word she could here but she was very much unlike most women. She watched a moment longer as the redheaded woman slid through the crowd, her face a mask of contained amusement.

The woman moved her eyes to the bar, catching the barman’s attention. She shook her nearly empty glass and watched him nod. She moved slowly to the bar, the redhead remaining in the corner of her eye. The barman slid a fresh glass of scotch towards her and took her old glass and set it aside.

“Thank you, Fletch,” the woman stated courteously, turning her attention to the man before her.

He smiled, “Not at all Miss Wolfe,”

She crooked an eyebrow at Fletch, her curls brushing her collar. The man chuckled in response, “Sorry, ma’am,” he said setting about wiping down the bar. His arm muscles working beneath the rolled up sleeves of his dress shirt.

The woman turned her head, her eyes hidden by the brim of her hat, she could see the mysterious woman now dancing alone her eyes closed. A peculiar woman, she mused, to be unaccompanied by a man on this side of town. Fletch followed her gaze and chuckled.

“Now, I’ve not seen that look before, ma’am,” Fletch stated, amusement curling around his words.

“Never you mind, Fletch,” the female murmured, her finger circling the rim of her glass.

Fletch chuckled, “She looks like a woman that drinks a nice red, let me give you a hand.”

Fletch poured a glass of red wine and slid it towards her, her brown eyes dropped to the scarlet liquid licking the insides of the glass as it settled. The brunette ignored it, instead taking a seat at the bar. Fletch shook his head and moved down the bar to make more drinks. The woman sat there, back to the room and sipped her drink. The robust alcohol slid a path of fire down her throat.

xxxx

Serena danced amongst the bodies around her, her mind empty as she reveled in the music. This rush of doing something so incredibly wrong sent her into the clouds. So far was she from her quaint, upper class life. Down here in the depths of New York’s underworld, she felt alive again. She loved the idea of being someone new, someone different than the wife of a Wall Street broker. It was not a fulfilling life by any means and without alcohol it just wasn’t worth it anymore. She’d grown up in New Hampshire before moving to the city on a whim to become an actress, yet here she is dancing in an illegal speakeasy six years later and not one Academy Award to show for it.

The song ended and the room applauded the young singer, her smile bright as she curtseyed. Serena’s hands clapped loudly, her heart racing and chest heaving. Her tongue danced over her chapped lips, it was high time for a drink and by god how she loved to drink.

Her heels clicked on the wooden floors as she weaved through the throng of people she’d never seen; some rich, some poor, and some falling somewhere in between. Yet, in this place everyone was equal and able to escape from the real world for even just a few hours. The bar was crowded with onlookers; the only stools open down at the end. Serena leaned on the bar, her clutch set aside on the shiny surface. She caught the bartender’s gaze, but he looked away continuing a conversation with a petite blonde flapper.

 Serena huffed, opening her mouth to say some vastly unladylike things when she heard a voice next to her say, “Enjoy a nice red?”

Serena whipped her head around, her green eyes widened as she met the brown eyes of a woman dressed in a suit. Oddly enough, she could never have mistaken the tall, lithe woman for a man. Her brown curls fell in a short bob, a black fedora nestled low on her head. The woman slid a full glass of wine towards her before taking a sip from her own glass.

“Thank you,” Serena said, a kind smile in place.

The woman smirked, “You’re welcome, miss.”

The brunette watched as the redhead tipped the glass to her lips, the scarlet liquid sliding between her lips. Her eyes drank in the woman’s jawline and exposed neck, watching her swallow. The brunette felt the need to loosen her tie, her face growing hot as she watched.

Serena set the glass down with a quiet, “delicious,” before resting her hands on the stem of the glass.

“Only the best served here, miss, believe me,” the brunette said her voice low and tinged with pride.

The red head smirked, “I know it’s all a part of the secret but sometimes I’d like thank the individuals involved in these…well parties.”

The brunette chuckled, “Why spoil the mystery though. What brings you here?”

Serena smiled, her eyes sparking, “I enjoy doing things I’m not supposed to, if you must know.”

“How ladylike of you,” the brunette deadpanned.

“I wouldn’t be poking fingers at being ladylike were I you, in a suit of all things,” Serena huffed in mock annoyance.

The brunette scoffed, “Touché.”

Silence settled over the pair as they sipped their respective drinks. Fletch made his way over, topping off Serena’s glass. “Got a name, pretty lady?”

“What’s it to you, horrible bar tender?” Serena challenged.

Fletch held up his hands, “A spitfire, how nice,” his boyish grin firmly in place.

Serena ran a hand through her red curls, “Serena.”

Fletch nodded, “Can I get you anything else, Serena? Can’t have you thinking the boss hires crappy service here.”

A smile curled Serena’s lips, “More wine please and tell me about the boss. I’m so eager to hear.”

The brunette raised only her eyes to Fletch in warning, the man matched her gaze with fervor.

“The boss prefers us not to speak, as you can imagine miss Serena. It’s not safe with the Mayor cracking down on illegal activity,” Fletch responded, using a towel to clean glasses.

Serena pouted and turned to the woman in the suit, “How about you? Sworn to secrecy as well?”

The brunette chuckled darkly, “No one keeps me to anything, Serena.”

Serena swallowed, hearing the way the woman’s lips curled around her name breaking the syllables apart. “And how is that so? Are you his wife or something?”

The brunette smirked, pulling her fedora off her head by the rim. She shook her brown curls and set the hat on the bar. She turned to Serena and leaned over, resting her forearm on the bar. Serena took a proper look at the beautiful stranger, the way her prominent jawline seemed etched from stone and her high cheek bones accentuating the lightly lined brown eyes. Her breath ghosted across Serena’s cheek as she moved to whisper in her ear.

“I am the boss,” her voice rippled along Serena’s skin, the low voice so obviously feminine touching places deep inside the redhead.

Serena chuckled, “Of course you are, miss? I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name.”

The brunette smiled, her white teeth shining, “I didn’t offer it.”

Serena was taken aback, her wit silenced as she watched the woman stand and shrug out of her suit jacket, leaving her in a black dress shirt and red suspenders. Her long fingers straightened her tie. The woman was tall, her presence seeming to fill the whole room. Serena had easily written her off, but was quickly re-thinking this decision.

“Fletch, put these behind the bar for me,” the woman murmured.

Fletch took the jacket and nodded, “of course, ma’am,” before disappearing through a nearby door.

Serena scoffed, “You could have paid him to listen to you; this proves nothing.”

The “boss” chuckled darkly, “I do pay him to listen to me, Serena. I am his employer after all. Bad taste not to pay your people.”

“Tell me your name,” Serena challenged, “and I’ll dance with you.”

Another chuckle escaped the “boss.” “What makes you think I want a dance?”

A devilish smile lit the redhead’s features, her hands pushing off the bar. She stood in front of the brunette, her hands moving to grip the end of the red tie at the woman’s abdomen. “Who wouldn’t want to dance with me?”

The “boss” cocked an eyebrow in question, her lips curling into a playful smile. The woman’s long-fingered hands slid down and into the pockets of her black trousers, her eyes like brown fire. Serena could not help but watch and wait for a response.

“Excuse me, care to dance?” a male voice broke the tense silence.

Serena turned and found a man in a gray suit standing close enough to brush her back. His eyes were a dark brown, nearly black in the dimmed room, a 5 ‘o clock shadow covering the length of his jaw. Serena eyed him closely, her gaze flitting to the mysterious woman before nodding.

The man held out his hand and pulled Serena off the stool and down the stairs. The “boss” watched as Serena settled her hands in his on the dance floor, her eyes looking over his shoulder into hers. The woman felt a clench in her abdomen at how quickly Serena had said yes, she’d been sure she’d seen something in those bright green eyes.

“Tough broad there, boss. You’re liable to get burned,” she heard Fletch say quietly.

The “boss” chuckled, “Nothing wrong with playing with fire when it looks like that, Fletch.”

xxxx

Serena quickly found that she should have responded negatively to this man’s offer for a dance. For one he was horribly uncoordinated and for two she hadn’t really wanted to dance with him in the first place. Serena’s eyes kept flicking over to the woman at the bar, who’d settled in assisting the bar tender as if it were nothing. Serena noted that the brunette had rolled up the arms of her dress shirt, leaving her pale forearms visible.

“Having a good time there, sweetheart?” the man asked, his breath rank with alcohol.

Serena wrinkled her nose, “Maybe next time you ask a girl to dance, you take some lessons first. I need to walk on my feet as well you know.”

The man’s eyes seemed to bulge out of his head and he threw up his hands and headed back to wherever he’d crawled out of. Serena chuckled to herself, men were like giant babies. One small criticism and they’d fly into a lasting tantrum that would put off even the strongest of women. Serena snagged a glass of vodka left unattended on a table and threw the warm liquid down her throat. Her eyes teared at the burn that followed, a welcome feeling as she moved through the crowd towards the bar.

Her eyes found the stranger again, which seemed odd to her because all of these people were strangers. People she’d never see in the light of day, but this woman seemed to stick out from the rest. Serena had never seen a woman in a suit before and to be quite honest it was intriguing. Not in a way she could ever explain, but the idea of it seemed to fit well on the woman in question. Serena watched as the woman chuckled at two men and donned her hat again, her thin fingers pulling the brim low over her eyes as she poured them shots of an amber liquid.

“What does a woman have to do to get a drink in this place?” Serena stated loudly, her hand coming down on the polished wood of the bar.

The woman looked up, their eyes catching. “What’ll it be then?” the brunette asked, gesturing to the wall of bottles.

Serena smirked, “I’ll have what the fellas are having.”

The “boss” chuckled and poured two shot glasses full of whiskey.

“One for you and one for me,” she said, her velvet voice coating the inside of Serena’s ears like honey.

Serena’s slim fingers wrapped around the shot glass and she tilted it back into her mouth. The brunette did the same, expelling breath as she swallowed. Serena giggled, her throat burning splendidly.

“How is that the boss of this place is running the bar,” Serena mused aloud, a disbelieving smirk settling on her lips.

The woman smirked, “I do as I please, that’s why.”

Serena tutted, “Not much of a talker, are you?”

The velvet laugh came again with a murmured, “It would appear not.”

Serena scoffed and reached into her clutch, pulling out a cigarette and sliding it between her lips. Serena fumbled for a pack of matches, coming up empty.

“Anyone have a light?” She voiced loudly, not a soul along the bar turning to her.

Serena heard the strike of a match and a flame presented to her, she leaned forward her eyes glancing at the owner of the hands. The brunette’s brown eyes met hers and Serena felt the breath leave her body in a muffed sigh around her cigarette. The woman pulled the match away and put it out on the bar before dragging a white towel over the spot.

Serena took a drag from the cigarette, eyeing the woman. “I want your name; don’t you think it’ll get exhausting saying hey you after a while?”

The “boss” poured another shot, “I’m sure there are vastly better things to be doing with your evening than learning my name.”

Serena threw back the shot and chuckled, “I think that name is well worth an entire evening.”

The brunette smiled, but it was short-lived as a man jogged from the entrance to the bar. Serena watched as he leaned over the bar and whispered into the brunette’s ear, his voice low and urgent. His salt and pepper hair was longer, his massive stature intimidating.

“You’re sure, Sacha?” the woman questioned, her hands clenching around the towel.

The man nodded, “Orders, ma’am?”

“Deal with it,” she replied icily.

The man nodded and raced off through a door at the back of the room. Serena followed his actions and returned her gaze to the woman before her.

Serena chuckled, “My, you are the boss, aren’t you?”

“I never lie, Serena, that is something you should know about me,” the woman replied, her easy smile falling back into place.

“Anything else I should know?” Serena murmured, her voice low.

The woman smirked, “Many things, but what would the point be? I’ll never see you again after tonight.”

Serena’s smile faltered as her real life rang in her head. The woman wasn’t wrong, but was she right? Stunned into silence, Serena watched as the brunette moved behind the bar with ease, making small conversation as though she had not a care in the world. Serena wished to be that way, live with no worry over insignificant details like schedules or dinner parties.

Serena heard the glass break before the shouting began. Her train of thought abruptly ending as everyone around her began to shuffle towards all available exits.

“RAID RAID RAID!” she heard a man shout over the noise.

In just one moment, the music stopped and the singing stopped. The clink of glasses ceased and the joyous atmosphere became flustered and urgent. Serena froze in her seat at the bar, what would she do if she got caught? She’d be found out and god knows it would not be pretty.

Her eyes traveled to the boss, her brown eyes flashing with anger as she grabbed her coat and hopped over the bar. The police began filing in the room, grabbing at anyone they could reach. Serena watched as the woman moved to her, gripping her elbow as she called “LIGHTS!”

In a split second the room went pitch black, the police could be heard shouting and screaming. Serena couldn’t see a thing, her alcohol addled mind swimming. She could only feel the warm grip on her elbow as she was led along the wall, slowly.

A quiet “trust me,” was murmured into her ear as they moved.

Serena felt a hand grip her dress and she opened her mouth to scream. A warm hand covered her mouth and a quiet “shhhhh,” ruffled her hair. Serena gasped involuntarily and a small chuckle issued from behind her.

The hand retreated as someone crawled by Serena’s feet and she moved, her back against the woman’s front. The brunette ran her hands over the wall, finding the knob she’d been searching for. Pulling Serena with her through the doorway and into a dim hallway. The boss closed the door behind them and pulled Serena along.

Shouting and bustling could be heard from every direction. The police had covered every inch of the abandoned hotel. The woman dropped her hand and shrugged her jacket back on before taking the woman’s hand and pulling her along. They took a left, then a right before reaching a door marked with a red “x”. Serena eyed the woman with apprehension and was met with only a smile.

Serena watched as the brunette pushed the door open and stepped outside into the rain. Serena stood rooted to the spot.

“You know, you’re making this getaway rather difficult?” the woman’s head hung around the door frame, water pouring off the brim of her hat.

Serena huffed and stepped out into the rain. Her auburn curls were instantly drenched. The careful crimp coming loose and her wet curls slid down her shoulders. They were standing in an alley off the front entrance of the hotel, the police could be heard in the distance and more sirens approaching.

“Shouldn’t there be a car or something to whisk you away, boss?” Serena deadpanned, her tone miserable as she wrapped her arms around herself.

A laugh reached her ears through the downpour, “I’m a simple woman. Besides, it’s just a little rain.”

Serena looked up and saw the brunette standing with her face upturned into the night sky, the rain running down her face and neck.  Serena was taken aback in that moment by how young the woman looked, how free. Serena stepped over to her and the brunette looked down at her.

A moment passed between them, Serena wondering how she’d gotten into this situation. The brunette’s mind thanking every deity known to mankind for this situation. The sirens grew louder and the police shouts drew closer to the end of the alley way. Serena felt the brunette push her against the wall as a police car barreled past, the headlights blinding them.

Serena looked up into her face, so close their noses were nearly touching. Serena felt the adrenaline pumping through her veins, this night had done nothing to deter her from seeking the depths of this city for her own enjoyment. Another car barreled past, sirens deafening the pair of them. Serena could hardly see anything in the darkened downpour, but she could see the woman’s eyes.

“Bernie,” the woman said, moving her lips to Serena’s ear.

Serena blinked, “What?”

The brunette chuckled, “My name is Bernie.”

Serena laughed, her hands fall on the woman’s shoulders, her fingers playing with the collar of her jacket. “Was that so hard?”

Bernie smirked, “Must maintain some mystery otherwise you’d have lost interest, sweetheart.”

“What makes you think I’m interested, boss?” Serena murmured, her voice low.

Bernie slid her hands up Serena’s waist to her back, “Well, for starters you’ve not asked me to stop touching you. Secondly, you’re going to kiss me.”

Serena sucked in a breath, “Am I?”

“Yes,” Bernie murmured, before her lips slid along Serena’s softly. Serena’s hands gripped the lapels of Bernie’s sodden jacket and pulled the taller woman closer. Bernie pushed her body flush against Serena’s her hips fitting against the redhead’s. Serena sighed, her mouth opening. Bernie slid her tongue between Serena’s teeth quickly. Bernie’s hands kneaded the muscles of Serena’s back, feeling the woman’s body quake. Bernie pulled away, resting her head against Serena’s.

“I’ve got to get you home,” Bernie said, before stepping away and pulling the stunned woman along by the hand.

xxxx


End file.
